


Gently brush the sand of my lonely heart

by Linisen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Don't copy to another site, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi!Chris, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linisen/pseuds/Linisen
Summary: When the man wakes two hours later, green eyes and a cocky grin on his face, Phichit’s heart almost stops in his chest. Christophé Giacometti, jedi knight of the rebellion, he says, eyelashes fluttering. Shit. Phichit doesn't know what is worse; the fact that he’s managed to get himself caught up in a war he swore never to have anything to do with by saving enemy number one of those who occupy his home planet or that just the sight of Chris makes Phichit’s knees go weak. Shit, shit!





	Gently brush the sand of my lonely heart

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up with this idea and it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it so here it is! Enjoy some Star Wars Phichimetti. 
> 
> Betaed by the lovely [takeitoffhemmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeitoffhemmo)

It’s early morning when the plane crashes into one of the heavy sand dunes of Phichit’s home planet. He doesn't see it, busy building a new mechanic mouse that he can trade for food in the town market, but he feels the ground tremble with the sheer force of the collision. He’s out of the tarp clad camp in a seconds, eyes squinting, hand coming up to shadow his eyes to be able to spot what caused the shaking. In the distance, he sees it, a ship.

It hasn't caught fire yet, but one never knows when that might happen, especially in this heat. Phichit hurries back into his tarp clad home, picks up his goggles and gloves to head to his hover bike, ready to scavenger the wreck. If he’s lucky there will be food that he can salvage. If he’s really lucky he can find enough material that he can build a better shelter from the sandstorms that will roll in in a few months. Arthur, his most loyal gerbil, squeaks from his perch as Phichit’s about to walk out of the tent. He smiles and lets the small animal crawl up, hiding in the soft dark red fabric wrapped around his torso.

Phichit isn't lucky. The front of the plane is practically torn to shreds, no bigger pieces salvageable. There is no food or water. There is some technology Phichit is unfamiliar with that he manage to screw loose from the steering module from the front part of the wreckage. It looks completely different than what he’s been able to steal from the Empire.

It’s when he leaves the front part of the plane, which is barely a front at all, and walks to the second part that he sees it; a body.

It’s a man; long legs with a slim body and blond hair with a dark undercut. Broad shoulders. He’s in an orange bodysuit, silver straps shredded and helmet knocked off. Above his eyebrow is a small slash, skin otherwise undamaged. He’s beautiful. He’s breathing. Phicht considers for a second. This man looks vastly different from the soldiers that march in the village. He’s probably not on the Empire’s side. He might even be a enemy. Phichit doesn't take sides. He builds things for ordinary people. Keeps out of fights. It keeps him fed. It’s kept him alive this long.

The sun is blaring, heat building, and if he just leaves the man will probably be dead within a few hours. Phichit barely has food for himself.

The body is heavy as he carries it down to his bike, stumbling in the dune as he half walks half slides. He secures the scraps he actually can use and the man’s body on the trolly and covers it with tarp before he kicks his bike in gear, and drives home.

When the man wakes two hours later, green eyes and a cocky grin on his face, Phichit’s heart almost stops in his chest. Christophé Giacometti, jedi knight of the rebellion, he says, eyelashes fluttering. _Shit_ . Phichit doesn't know what is worse; the fact that he’s managed to get himself caught up in a war he swore never to have anything to do with by saving enemy number one of those who occupy his home planet or that just the sight of Chris makes Phichit’s knees go weak. _Shit, shit!_

It turns out it was mostly shock from the crash and dehydration that knocked Chris unconscious and when he’s gotten some food and water in him, he gets a healthy flush on his cheeks which makes him even handsomer than before. Phichit’s heart does a weird flip and his stomach flutters.

With the Empire controlling the planet, and his ship completely destroyed, Chris asks if he can stay with Phichit. He can help with Phichit’s inventing, he assures him. Lifting heavy objects with the force, and he can weld together metal with his lightsaber. Phichit thinks he has a good routine, but agrees, not wanting to let Chris wander around the dessert all alone.

Turns out Chris’ help is extremely useful. Pieces of metal that previously was useless turn into gold when Chris can weld them together or separate them with the flick of his wrist, green light from the lightsaber illuminating the desert night as they work side by side. Phichit manages to double his mouse building rate, plus make extended shelter that he sells for an almost mind blowing sum. It covers food and water for both of them for three months, Phichit has never been able to sell anything worth that much in his life. It seems they make a good team.

Being around Chris is easy, almost terrifyingly so. Phichit finds himself enjoying Chris’ company more than anyone he’s ever met before. Chris is cheeky, touchy, thoughtful, and filled with carefree happiness. He jokes about the war as if it hasn't killed thousand of lives, destroyed millions and evaporated entire planets to dust. It’s liberating being around someone so filled with joy and optimism. Phichit’s surprised to find himself laughing and smiling so much around Chris. It feels good. It feels like being free.

Chris’ touches always linger. It sends sparks tingling across Phichit’s sun kissed skin, like star constellations expanding until he’s filled with sparkling sunlight. Maybe Phichit is touch starved. He can’t stop reaching back. Trailing the scars on Chris’ arms as they both doze on the bed, letting his hand linger on Chris’ back as they walk in the desert or let his fingers tickle the short strands of hair in the nape of his neck when Chris pulls him in to a hug.

Chris kisses him first. It’s a soft caress of smooth lips against his one morning as they wake up next to each other, legs tangled on the small bed. It’s a small movement, deepening to _more more more_. It’s earth-shattering all the same. Phichit feels like he hasn't breathed in his entire life and then Chris came crashing his fighter into his life and now there is air in his lungs and the drowning feeling that’s been weighing him down is disappearing.

It’s mostly on a whim he buys the vial of oil at the market on one of his delivery routes. Part on hope, part in lust. Chris sees is as Phichit unpacks and that’s all it takes for him to push Phichit down on his back on what they call a bed and caress his clothes away. When Chis pushes in, body pressed as a solid weight against Phichit’s front, Phichit wonders if this overwhelming warmth growing in his chest might be love. As pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach, Chris lips move against his. Whispering praises of Phichit’s beauty, his kindness, how tight and good he feels. Like he was made for Chris. Phichit desperately hopes he was. Sculpted and crafted to fit this well with the man he’s fallen for. The man he loves. He feels worshipped, adored. If time would stop right then, if they could be suspended in the moment just as Chris shouts his name as he empties inside Phichit, that would truly be bliss.

When they wake two weeks later, skin to skin and tangled limbs after another night of pleasure upon pleasure, it’s from the humming sound of an engine. Chris is out of bed and into his pants faster than Phichit has time to react. He tries to call out, to plead for Chris to stop, that nothing good can be waiting for them on the other side of that tarp. Phichit is of course right. It’s just not the danger he suspects.

A few meters away, sleek silver and orange in contrast to the grainy and dirty dessert, stands a ship. The two men jumping out of the ship are in the same orange jumpsuits he found Chris in. One with long silver hair blowing in the desert wind. The other with black hair and blue rimmed glasses. They’re both smiling at the site of Chris who’s rushing towards them, wrapping them up in one of those warm hugs Phichit loves. His heart plummets. This fantasy will end now. Chris will go back to fighting the war, leaving the boy he met after the crash without a second glance. Maybe he has someone like this on every planet. Has loved many men with the touch of his soft caresses and beauty of his words. Phichit has only loved once. Pain blooms in his chest and he lets the tarp fall down, shielding him from the sight of the reunion as he starts collecting Chris’ things that litter their home.

Chris comes darting back, bright and shining as he wraps his arms around Phichit from behind, nuzzling his nose into the hollow behind Phichit’s ear. Phichit shrugs him off, tears burning behind his eyelids. When he turns to hand over the bag with the few things Chris has spread around the tent he’s met with a deep frown. The sight of Chris’ face this close, smooth skin over high cheekbones and breathtaking green eyes is what breaks the dam, tears starting to tread down his cheeks as Phichit chases after breath, trying to get the tears to stop. He feels embarrassed, getting attached like this to a man who is just going to leave, feels stupid that he never even brought the subject of the future up with him. It had all seemed so easy, falling into this simple life together, falling in love. Maybe it was just smoke and mirrors.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Chris asks, taking a tentative step forward, arm reaching out towards Phichit who doesn't know if he wants to push Chris away or wrap his arms around him and disappear in his embrace. He does neither, letting Chris’ callused hand stroke the tears that keep streaming down his face off. Phichit tries for air again, vocal cords not responding. What is he supposed to say anyway?

The tarp flutters open and the man with dark hair stares at them, wide eyed, for a second before scolding his expression, looking down at his leather boots. The handle of the lightsaber catches the light and glimmers.

“I’m sorry Chris but, uhm- We need to leave soon if we don’t want a fight. We’re picking up some Empire transmissions that spotted our ship. They’re probably going to come searching soon” he says. Chris nods, hands still on Phichit’s wet cheek, and the boy drops the tarp, disappearing out of sight.

The interruption has given Phichit a some time to breathe and he takes half a step back, bumping into his work table.

“Goodbye then,” Phichit says, voice wobbling as he straightens his back - trying to look put together, calm, even though there is a tumbling pain in his chest just waiting to devour him. He wonders what the Empire soldiers will say when they come and find nothing. Will they kill him? Maybe that’s just as well.  Phichit doesn't think he could stand this pain for any extended period of time. Chris looks confused for a second before shaking his head, stepping forward to forcefully press his lips against Phichit’s.

“Get your things. You’re coming with me,” Chris says as he moves away. Phichit just stares at him for a second, gaping.

“I am?”

“Phichit, now,” he says and that springs Phichit into action, adding the the most valuable possessions he has in the bag he packed for Chris; Arthur the gerbil included.

As they walk out into the dry desert, Chris pulls him close, arm around his waist. His lips come to rest against his temple and Phichit leans in, joy seeping into his entire being as Chris whispers.

“You are far too brilliant to stay in this sandbox, darling. Besides, I would have to stay too if you did.”

As the plane took off, Phichit looks down at the desert that have been his home most of his life, his tent becoming smaller and smaller until it disappeared as they enter the atmosphere. Fear surge up in Phichit, making his throat tight from the unfamiliarity of it all. What would happen now? Who would he be now? Would he be useful? Could he make a difference? Could he stop what happened to his family happening to someone else's? 

The silver haired Jedi that Chris introduced as Victor steers the plane deeper in to space, stars surrounding them on every angle as Phichit's home planet disappeared behind them. Phichit feels his heartbeat staring to become erratic, pouring hard in his chest. Then, there is a arm around his waist; pulling him tight into a warm chest, lips trailing his temple. Chris voice is warmth and comfort and it eases Phichit's worries as it rumbles thru him as the flighter picks up speed. 

"Let's save the world together love, let's make you the hero I know you can be."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think in the comment section or on other platforms like:  
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/linisen) and  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mjaoue)  
> If you wanna prompt me, for this story, someone else ive written or just in general:  
> [Prompt list](https://linisen.tumblr.com/post/182470660496/send-me-a-ship-and-a-prompt-and-ill-write-a)


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